Natural Man

There is much debate on what our role in nature is these days. To be the Jolly Green Giant fighting the machine of natural destruction is quite proper in our society. It is argued that we (man) have destroyed natural processes, have violated this mother nature person, meddling in what we don't understand and now we are suffering the consequences of those actions. And that is true. I live in Colorado and if you ever go hiking in the mountains you will see the remains of mining claims of 100 years ago that still affect the streams. Look at the Aral Sea, or what remains of it, in Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan. It's gone, used up for irrigation to support, perhaps unnecessarily, large crop industries and is now a giant, blowing salt flat. An ecological disaster. We all know the stories of how we have affected the earth in bad ways, and as some would argue, morally wrong ways.

Death

Cautious... Careful... One step. Two steps. Closer. Lowering. Dip into the water for that long cool drink. Watch! Stop and listen! Everything is fine. Lower again. Eyes closed. Rest for a second. Feel the coolness flow down. Snap! Eye's wild. Panic. Pain. Get away! Held tight. Trapped. Frantically struggling. Can't get away! Teeth. Tearing teeth. Ripping flesh. Dripping blood. Fight! Weakness. Rolling. Rolling. Can't get away! Slower now. Can't feel. Pain. Darkness. Darker and darker. Limp. Death.

Where is God in this? Where?! Can a "God of love" possibly have a hand in this? We've all seen this scene on some national geographic show. The cute little antelope comes down to drink and is snapped up by the lurking crocodile. Does this scene prove the evilness of creation; that the curse of man is alive and well and rampant throughout?

Sons and Daughters

A lot of these are interchangeable.

What I would do if I had a son:
-take him to the woods and show him the trees and the rocks
-throw rocks and climb trees
-throw him in the air and catch him
-build something
-headbang out to some hard core music
-tell him I loved him
-catch a fish

Wet

The cold all around next to the skin,
it's fingers reaching into every crevice,
never leaving, always yielding,
Enveloped in gentle folding caress.

Deeper and deeper, the pressure grows.
Darker and blacker, flowing and swirling.
Dripping, running, the sounds off my nose,
Demanding the air I breath.

Smoothly rendering silks unnecessary
Infinite lips kissing my skin
Warm to cold if but wait awhile
Oh! What joy I find myself in.

Corns and Asparagai

I love to bbq. I love the standing around cooking meat to perfection while hanging with friends and listening to their lives and passions. Plus, who doesn't love a good juicy burger or corn? It's one of the few times when you can cook with your guests because the act of grilling itself requires the flow of words across it: the petty competition of who knows more about such and such, politics, the latest news, family and randomness all braided through the smoke rising off some juicy brauts. Surely this is what meal times were created to be.

Poetry of Life

There is much in this world. True, a lot of it is fluffy crap, things that don't matter, that fill up our lives with meaninglessness. But underneath it all runs a river of poetry, a song that fills things with wonder, with beauty. I wish I could live in that river. I wish I could always talk in poetry, where every word matters and brings with it an essential piece without which everything is incomplete. Perhaps that is something to strive for.
You know, it is easier to just let the wave of advertising, the black hole of mindless entertainment to suck you in, to shove down the feelings that hurt, that are scary, that require unprecedented risk and just live your live unconscious without really living. I know I do it. More than I care to admit really. But how to get out? To break out of this rut; not onto flat ground but into the tallest mountains, the greenest valleys, to swim the raging oceans, and sleep by the softest stream. We are not called to do this alone however. Take someone by the hand and enter the unknown together for all beauty is in vain if it is not shared.

Words

I've been reading a book by Brennen Manning and he is really one of the most eloquent users of adjectives I've read, which makes sense since he's attempting to describe God. In the book he frequently caveats his paragraphs by saying that words can't really describe the true essence of the love of God; the particular thing he's attempting to describe. But what really gives words meaning? I think we are trying to wrap our language around ideas or feelings or concepts or God to describe them and define them so that we might attempt to share these with someone. Do we succeed?